


SCARS | Self Harm Warnings

by newlolly



Category: One Piece
Genre: Blood, Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self Harm, Self-Harm, Triggers, self worth, upset sanji
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 01:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18488050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newlolly/pseuds/newlolly
Summary: Sanji becomes distressed when Zoro finds a new woman to love. He copes in the only way he knows - regardless of how unhealthy it might be.[OR] Sanji was woken up by the stinging sensation in his arm the next morning. He pulled back the dress shirt he had slept in to find the sleeve stained with blood.





	SCARS | Self Harm Warnings

Truth be told, Sanji had not managed to contact with any of the crew in over a week. He was avoiding them.

He spent his days in a similar fashion. He would come up to the galley, make the crew dinner, set it on the table, and rush back out before calling the crew to the meal. He would fake chores in the kitchen or fake the need of supplies to avoid the crew. He would eat small bits as he cooked, but never a full meal himself. Sanji found the new routine sad because he loved the food he made. Eating his own food was one of his joys, because he was able to grow as a chef and learn from his mistakes. But without an appetite, Sanji found it hard to do anything but force feed himself a few mouthfuls of ingredients a day.

His appetite had disappeared the same day Zoro brought his girl back to the ship. _The real reason? Sanji realized he was in love with him._

Part of Sanji had always understood he was in love with Zoro. From the moment Sanji’s eyes had come across the mosshead’s muscles, he knew there was a strong physical attraction. Everyone saw him and Zoro fight due to their egos, but they also saw the bond that could not be broken. The two men were both part monster, part human; fighting only for what they believed in. They were able to understand each other without speaking. The more time the two crew mates spent together, the more Sanji got to know Zoro’s inner self.

_God damn, Sanji was in love with him._

Things had changed just the other night. The crew had docked on a small island off their normal course. Nami predicted the island to exist, but had said it was only a rumor, a myth. The island was not documented by Marines as being accessible to pirates. The island town was small, and very off the grid. They owned little electronics and did not follow the latest news.

Sanji was positive that some of them may not even know of Gol D Roger’s execution, much less who upcomer Monkey D. Luffy was.

The island was the perfect place for the crew to blend in while their latest wounds healed. Zoro and Sanji had been beat up bad, and Robin was still in strict recovery. The island was supposed to be a much-needed break from the tense life they had been living, and the past two weeks were part of their recovery.

Zoro’s girl turned up one week ago.

She was a blonde, with short silky hair. She lacked curves. A small dagger was always tied to her hips, and Sanji had never seen her wear anything but jeans and a tank top. Scars covered her arms, and she seemed to be ten years older than the crew. Sanji never heard her speak, other than to whisper to Zoro. The woman reeked worse than Sanji did of nicotine.

She spent every second by Zoro’s side, whether she be clinging to his arm or climbing all over him. He’d suck down a bottle of Sake while she sipped an also large glass of booze. She had spent late nights on the sand, Zoro sprawled out napping by her side.

All in all, most the crew wrote it off as a brief fling Zoro was having to release sexual tension, but Sanji was devastated. He took it harder than he’d let anyone know.

Drying the last dish of the night, Sanji put it away. He locked the door to the galley, pulling out an old, sharp friend of his. Nobody needed to know of his nasty little habit. He dragged the friend across his wrist, watching the crimson blood drops fall onto the counter.

He wondered how Zoro felt about scars.

X

Nami was sick of the fling that Zoro was having. The blonde woman had been hanging around the crew without a formal introduction. Nobody knew her name or spoke to her, not even Luffy. Nami wondered about the woman’s underlying intentions. The age difference between Zoro and the blonde was apparent. The woman reeked of sex, cigarettes, and booze; and the whole boat stunk of cigs between the woman and the chain-smoker Sanji had become.

She watched the woman cling to Zoro on the beach every night. They’d sit, and occasionally, Zoro would make a move to kiss the blonde. Or, Zoro would bring her in to sleep on the boat with him. He might start snuggling with her, just to leave in the middle of the night.

Did Nami think their relationship was appropriate? No.

Would they leave the island sooner than planned because of this? Hell yeah.

Did she have a right to say anything to Zoro? Probably not.

Nami had also become keen on Sanji’s strange behavior. Sanji was distancing himself from the crew, and it was painstakingly obvious the distance had to do with Zoro. She’d heard Sanji crying in the galley early, and the small sobs broke her heart. Sanji no longer gave Zoro extra helpings or glasses of booze at dinner. Sanji no longer acted as part of the Nakama.

A sigh escaped her lips. They would leave this island sooner than hoped.

X

Sanji was woken up by the stinging sensation in his arm the next morning. He pulled back the dress shirt he had slept in to find the sleeve stained with blood.

“Fuck,” he cursed, holding the sleeve against the open wound. He had been getting little sleep, and he could tell he had broken the cut open tossing and turning about. He threw his feet over the side of the bottom bunk, looking around. Close to 4AM, every crew member was passed out around the room. Minus Zoro, of course.

He tip-toed around the room, careful not to wake anyone up. A worried crew member would make things more difficult for Sanji. Chopper finding out would be the end of any pain release he’d ever get. He swung the door open wide, making his way back up to the galley. He could clean the wound there.

The laughter of the blonde woman echoed down the hall, followed by Zoro’s deep voice. His voice lacked the usual luster. Zoro didn’t appear interested in the conversation. Sanji tried to listen in, not caring about the blood-soaked sleeve. Unfortunate, Sanji could not hear anything the pair said.

He slid the door to the galley open without hesitation, closing the lock behind him. He rushed to the sink, ripping the shirt over his body.

Would he clean the wound? Eventually.

But first, he had emotions to tend too. The laughter invoked his anger and irritation. Why did the blonde woman deserve Zoro more than he did?

Sanji pulled the blade out from behind a sake bottle, and carved two more lines into his arm, watching as a crimson liquid flushed over his skin. He felt real relief. There was something calming about punishing his own self for not being good enough.

Cleaning the wounds – new and old – would be easy. He poured the cleaning alcohol over his arm and swore silently as the cuts burned. He couldn’t risk losing his hands from an arm infection.

A voice was coming closer, along with heavy oaf like footsteps. Sanji sucked his breath in, wrapping a paper towel around his arm quickly, and pulling the stained shirt back on.

“Let me in,” Zoro spoke.

“Why?” Sanji mustered, “I’m cooking.”

“Need booze.”

Sanji grabbed the nearest bottle of alcohol, unlocked the door, and pushed open a crack.

“Here,” he said, thrusting the bottle through the open space. Zoro accepted the bottle, leaving Sanji alone with his thoughts.

Sanji was in love with someone he could never have. He touched the sopping wet sleeve and shuttered.

Footsteps fading, Sanji was beginning to feel woozy. His sleeve was covered in blood, and Sanji could not remember the last time he had eaten. He touched the wet shirt sleeve and shuttered, locking the door. He was tired and dizzy, and the floor seemed like a comfy spot for a quick nap.

X

Nami woke around ten from the sun blaring through her window. She made her way to the deck, confused by the lack of breakfast smells. She was worried. Sanji never skipped the crew’s breakfast, and he would surely be done by now. She took notice of the passed-out blonde on the deck and could not help but feel angry.

Zoro had not bothered to introduce the woman he was obviously starting a romantic relationship with. Plus, something deep down told Nami that Zoro was gay, and that his heart should belong to another man on the ship.

She learned against the deck listening to Zoro’s weight training, deciding it was her place to finally say something.

“Seen Sanji?” she asked, approaching Zoro.

“No.”

“Any word on breakfast?” Nami shot back.

“No,” Zoro grunted, pushing the weight back up again.

“That’s unusual, don’t you think?”

Zoro set the weight down, thinking of all the hurt he had been seeing recently in Sanji’s eyes.  Sanji didn’t seem to want to eat with them and he locked himself in the galley a lot. He was the last in bed, and the first to rise. Zoro had not thought too much of it – mainly because he was trying to avoid the man, who he would never get to have. It was beyond irritating to spend most of his days avoiding Sanji, the man of his dreams.

“What are you implying?” Zoro asked, unamused with Nami.

“I don’t smell anything either,” Luffy called out, arriving on deck to join the conversation. “I’m huuunnnnnngrrrrrrry!”

Nami got close to Zoro’s face, hoping to leave Luffy out of the conversation, staring into the eyes of the demon, ignoring the muscled body and sweat rolling down Zoro’s face from his workout.

“If you are going to reek of cigarettes, it shouldn’t be anybody’s cigs but Sanji.”

Zoro glared back at her.

“Go find him.”

X

A convincing woman did not begin to describe Nami. She could change any of her friends’ desires in a second, simply by threatening to raise their already high debt. And that was exactly what she had done.

Zoro had no conscious desire to find out what Sanji was doing. Ever since Zoro had brought a girl around, Sanji avoided him. He banged on the galley door hard, hoping to alert Sanji that it indeed him coming.

No answer.

Zoro could not believe how stubborn Sanji was being, and for a few seconds, he felt a rage burn in his stomach. Zoro understood that the two of them had a strange attachment with each other, and Zoro understood that their pride and egos would always ruin any chance they had of being even friends.

Neither man wanted to be in love with someone who could not give love back.

Neither man could convince themselves to admit they were gay.

Raising a fist, Zoro banged on the door again.

“Captains hungry,” he said, hoping to irk a response.

Nothing.

The lack of response began to worry the swordsman, for quiet was not in Sanji’s nature. Usually, the chef would have immediately thrown insults and curses out the door about the crew effecting his cooking and disturbing his routine. It was close to noon and breakfast had not been served, Sanji had not even brought a single crew member a glass of morning tea.

Zoro’s worry set in, and he pushed on the locked galley door. “God dammit Sanji, I pray to god you did not do this.”

A well-hidden secret of Sanji was his affixation with self-harm. Zoro caught on when he saw the familiar pain pooling in Sanji’s eyes, and the blood drops on Sanji’s bed. It was worrying at first, and when Zoro pointed out the blood, Sanji refused to sleep in his bed. All nightly affairs now happened in Zoro’s bed.

But that did not stop Zoro’s curiosity, and one night, Sanji got drunk, then naked, and fell asleep on the lover’s lap. Zoro spent time brushing his finger over every scar. They littered up and down Sanji’s arms and his inner thighs. Some were deep scars, some were freshly scabbed cuts, some were infected. Zoro touched each one with a delicacy and begged himself not to cry.

His thoughts turned to prayers begging for a response, deciding he would reap the consequences of Franky as he pulled out his swords and swung them first thing at the galley doors, splitting them into three pieces, which fell forward.

“GET CHOPPER,” Zoro ordered to whoever could hear. No response was given but footsteps approached. The blonde he’d been hanging with appeared at his side.

“What’s wro…” her face fell. “Who’s this?”

“Our chef.”

She stared back at him. “The chef?”

“Yes, the god damn chef,” Zoro said, kneeling on the floor next to the pale white skin on Sanji. “Find the red head girl, Nami, and tell her get Chopper to the galley.”

“I don’t want to help him,” the blonde woman spoke. “He’s trouble.”

“What do you mean god dammit? He’s dying!”

She looked at Zoro up and down. “But you love him.”

“Get the god damn doctor and get off this ship. I’ll find you later,” Zoro spoke in harsh tones. The rage surprised the woman, and she did exactly as she was told, sauntering off. Within minutes, Nami and Chopper were a clatter of footsteps and hooves back to the main galley.

Zoro was wrapping Sanji’s arm in clean paper towels. The blood had soaked through his entire dress shirt, the sleeve a soaking red mess. Zoro tore the shirt off with anger. How dare the idiot chef do something like this. He held the towels to the bleeding arm, cupping Sanji’s head in between his leg and laying his hand on the other man’s forehead.

“Don’t die on me,” he pleaded. “God dammit Sanji.”

Zoro felt an emptiness in his stomach. He knew he’d work out till his own wounds bled. Sanji was so emotionally weak, and Zoro could not handle it. He needed Sanji to be strong, so Zoro could have him, all the time.

“Oh my god,” Nami cried out, staring at the passed out Sanji and puddles of blood on the tiled floor.

Chopper didn’t hesitate, getting to work, while sniffing and letting tears out. He stitched up Sanji’s arm and wrapped it. He injected something in his arm, and asked Nami to leave the room.

“You want to work on Sanji alone, with Zoro here?” she asked, concern dripping from her voice.

“Yes,” Chopper said. “I’ll scream if something goes wrong.”

Nami started to protest but exited the galley on the doctor’s orders.

“Undress him,” Chopper ordered.

“What?”  Zoro responded.

“Most self-harmers do not just use their wrists, and I am not letting go of an opportunity to help him. Let me see the full extent of the damage. If I am wrong, we will slip his pants back on and pretend we never did any of this.”

Zoro stared. Truth be told – he had seen Sanji pantless in his own bed, as they cuddled away each other’s insecurities – but it felt wrong to expose Sanji’s secrets. If Zoro didn’t do it, Chopper would call someone else to help, and Zoro knew he had a duty to fulfill for one of his best friends. He unbuttoned the dress pants and wiggled them off the blonde’s hips.

There. Cuts. Slices. Burns. Marks crawling down his inner thighs, all different shades of new. Some were skin colored scars, some were brown, some were green with infection. Chopper went to cleaning and bandaging them up, while Zoro returned to his place with Sanji’s head in his lap.

“Do you want to be there when he wakes up? I suspect it will be soon.”

Zoro nodded, swallowing his pride. He felt like part of this was fault, he knew flat out that Sanji was hurting and here Zoro was - hanging out with another woman.

“Does he hate me?” Zoro asked, looking at Chopper with the most sincerity he could muster.

Chopper shrugged, feeling Sanji’s hands grow warmer, as he finished the last bandage on the thighs. “He’s all cleaned up. He will be up soon, and then can you take him down to the crew room? I’m kicking all the Nakama out.”

Zoro nodded, following the instructions given. He stared at the sleeping figure as his eye lids fluttered. Chopper packed his things, leaving the two alone. Zoro placed his hands on Sanji’s forehead, waiting for the anger that would follow. Thoughts invaded his head:

_The woman was a bad decision. I didn’t need to be with her, did not want too. I wanted a distraction, because truth is, I am gay. For this broken man, in my lap. I am gay, and I want all my love to forever go to him, because that is what he deserves._

Sanji woke.

It was not dramatic like Zoro expected. He wasn’t angry. His eyes looked up at the ceiling, and then he began to take in his surroundings. He reached for his wrist, and felt the bandage, and then pull himself up to sit, facing Zoro. He blushed at the lack of pants.

“You,” he spoke.

“Yes,” Zoro answered.

“How much did you see?” Sanji said, staring at the floor and noticing his bare, bandaged legs. “What happened?”

“I found you passed out,” Zoro answered. “Chopper wanted to clean you up.”

Sanji nodded.

“I let him.”

Another nod.

“Why did you do this?”

Sanji got silent and picked at the bandages that were wrapped around his legs. He felt anxious and tense, and still dizzy from the blood loss.

“I’m not good enough,” the words spoken dripped with a sadness. “You have a girlfriend.”

“This…” Zoro said, gesturing to the amount of gauze covering his arms. “… is all because of me?”

 

 


End file.
